


An Enlightening Session

by OTPshipper98



Series: Harry Potter in English [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxious Harry Potter, Banter, Fluffy Ending, Harry Potter goes to Therapy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ice Cream, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Smug Draco Malfoy, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98
Summary: Harry confesses a secret and makes a decision.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AkaShika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika/gifts).



> AkaShika prompted: "All that time we were together I was thinking about him." And _of course_ I had to make it Drarry. Kinda. They'll surely get there. XD

“All the time we were together, I was thinking about him.”

Harry didn’t dare look up in the silence that followed. They’d been talking about Ginny for what, three sessions now? And Harry had thought about saying those words out loud over and over again, only to swallow them back into the pit of emptiness that was his chest, too ashamed to admit it. Too scared it would become real the moment he voiced it.

“Was this why you were so quiet last week?” Jane asked. “Because you wanted to tell me this, but couldn’t get the words out?”

How did she know him so well? _Therapists have superpowers, mate_ , Ron would’ve said.

His voice shook when he mumbled a strained, “Maybe.” He swallowed. Lying was no use, was it? “...Yeah.”

“What kind of thoughts did you have about him?”

The fact she knew exactly who that ‘him’ referred to without Harry having to say his name upset him. Had he really talked that much about Draco?

“I… I’d tell Ginny about my day, and when she replied, I’d imagine what he would say in her place. I’d think about him while I cooked — about how he’s always saying how much he loves an extra bit of salt on his food. I’d—” He bit his lip. Was he really going to say it? “I’d fantasise about him, too. In… bed.”

And to think he’d started going to therapy because he'd died and come back to life… he felt deeply embarrassed, but the tightness in his chest was already starting to ease as he let out the thoughts he’d been fighting to keep inside.

Merlin, but did he feel weird.

“Do you still think about him now that you’re single?”

Harry raised his head when he realised he was staring at his own fidgety hands. He smiled awkwardly at her. “You know I do.”

She smirked back at him. “I do. I wanted to know if you’d admit it.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t easy to say,” he mumbled, trying to lighten the mood. Then he forced his next thought out before he could change his mind. “I should also admit that… that I think I love him. I… I may have for a very long time now. I’m not sure, though.”

“What’s your definition of love?”

Ah, that was the question, wasn’t it? Perhaps if he knew the answer he wouldn’t be so damn lost, but alas, Harry hadn’t exactly had much love in his life. Not even when he’d thought he had.

“I don’t know. If I’m honest, I only called it _love_ because that’s the word everyone uses when they can’t stop thinking about someone else, and about just _being_ with them.” He was fidgeting again, but he couldn't do anything about it. “I just want Draco by my side, all the time. I adore his sarcastic remarks, and I like it when he talks Quidditch with me, and — Merlin, I even love the way he sneezes, he’s just too cute. And when I’m with him, it’s like… like we walk at the same pace. When I’m with him, I don’t feel like being left alone, which usually happens with everyone else but Ron and Hermione.”

When he looked up again, Jane was smiling, this time in amusement. Harry brought a hand to his hair, sighing. He felt so stupid.

“I think what you’re describing matches the definition of _infatuation_ , Harry. Or as you kids call it nowadays… a _crush._ There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but seeing as it’s been going on for so long and it’s making you upset, perhaps it’s time to consider doing something about it.”

A chill passed through Harry, and the only thought he could process was that he did _not_ want to cut Draco from his life. Under no circumstances.

“Do you mean that as in…”

“I mean it as in doing something you haven’t tried before. Like telling a friend how you feel, or perhaps, if you think it’s safe, telling _him_ how you feel. Do you trust him enough to do that? Do you think he’d be understanding about it?”

“I—” Harry stuttered. “I mean, we’re friends. More or less. But I don’t think I can do it.” Or could he? Fuck, the mere idea was unravelling a sea of hypothetical scenarios in his mind, and each one was crazier than the last. But there was just too much between them. And how would he even explain? How could he tell Draco he’d been fantasising about him while dating Ginny? What if he ruined their friendship?

What if… what if Draco liked him too?

Feeling brave, he closed his fists to keep his fingers still and said the words that were blooming inside him, powerful and thrilling. “Or… you know what? Perhaps I can try.”


	2. An Enlightening Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt sent by FleetofShippyShips, "Well, that's a creative way to say hello..." which I altered a bit :)

It all happened in a flash. One second Harry was shouting Draco’s name across Diagon Alley, earning all kinds of looks from the people who were enjoying the sunny day in the streets, and the next he was tripping and crashing against Draco with a gasp.

He wanted to check what the heck he’d tripped over, but was distracted by a cold, slimy feeling spreading all over his chest. “Ew, what…?” He tried to put some space between Draco and him, but his legs were not cooperating. Luckily, Draco grasped his forearms and steadied them both.

“My ice cream, that’s what,” Draco deadpanned, looking far too composed for a man whose robes were all covered in blue goo. “That was a creative way to say hello, I’ll give you that. Do try not to ruin my dessert next time, though. It was my favourite flavour.”

Harry took a step back, pulling his soaked shirt away from his chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “The Ministry should really start fining people for littering…”

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry's lame excuse, then reached for his wand and cleaned both their clothes with a swish, saying, “So what did you want? I hope it was worth the ice cream.”

“Uh… well, not really,” Harry mumbled. “Just — you know, to catch up.”

“Harry Potter catching up? Please. You wouldn’t do that if we hadn’t seen each other in months, and we had coffee together just last Saturday.”

Harry clenched his fists to keep his hands from playing with the hems of his shirt. “Yeah, coffee,” he quickly corrected himself. “That's what I meant. We should have coffee.”

“Right now?” Draco chuckled.

“If you're free.”

Draco shook his head. “Whatever it is just spit it, Potter. Preferably while walking — I'd like to buy a few books before Flourish and Blotts closes today. And yes, silly, we can have coffee afterwards.”

“Okay. Cool.” _Everything is cool. Just tell him already._ As they started walking, Harry braced himself. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists and said,  "Do you… do you know that feeling of not wanting to get into the shower? But when you finally do, you’d do anything to stay there forever? Like, you just feel so _warm_ and _calm_ that even though you’re wasting water and it’s probably a bad idea to stay five more minutes you just _do_ it, because how the hell are you supposed to make sensible decisions when you’re feeling so fucking good?”

“Potter,” Draco said, a small, curious smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “What are you trying to tell me, you babbling nincompoop?”

“That… um.” Fuck. All the courage, all the ache and desperation that had been consuming him since his conversation with Jane, were rapidly abandoning him, and he swallowed. “That you’re — you’re sort of like… like a warm shower. Like finally taking that warm shower when I was too tired to move from my bed. I guess. If that makes sense.”

_It doesn’t. Harry, you idiot, what are you even sa—_

“Of course it does.” Draco raised his chin with a grin. “But you didn't need that many words just to tell me I'm hot. I already knew that.”

Harry spluttered, his skin suddenly burning. “That was _not_ —”

“Relax, you idiot,” Draco said lightly, “I know.”

Harry huffed. “Arsehole.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds, then Draco asked, “So, I'm like a warm shower, right? Does that mean I'm a guilty pleasure or that I'm an annoying necessity then?”

“Ugh, can't we just forget I said all that?”

Draco huffed. “You wish.”

“Oi, stop throwing my own words at me!” Harry pinched him, and Draco giggled and elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s not my fault you were such a drama queen as a kid!”

“Oh, _I_ was the drama queen?”

“Absolutely,” Draco said solemnly. “Though I must admit, it was quite charming at times.”

“Shut up, you twat.” Harry suddenly felt like his heart was on fire. They’d stopped walking, and he realised they were at Flourish and Blott’s — except right behind the shop, in a narrow alley that was deserted except for a tabby cat that was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Okay,” Draco said, his voice soft but confident. “I’ll shut up if you really want me to.”

Harry’s breath caught when warm fingers brushed his. The touch was tender, but it felt piercing, and like a hot wave of _something_ crashing against him.

“Draco.” The name fell from his lips, breathless, panicky. “You don’t want to do that,” he urged, pulling away from the caress. “The reason I wanted to talk to you today—”

“I know.”

That cut Harry’s verbal incontinence short.

“You — know.”

“Duh.” Even though Harry couldn’t move — couldn’t face Draco as his mind reeled trying to gather the meaning of those words — Draco reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers with a strong grasp. “You’ve never been particularly good at hiding your feelings toward me, whatever their nature,” Draco said, so casually Harry almost wanted to laugh. “Pining suits you, by the way. You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

Harry stared at nothing, his eyes fixated on the shape of a rock on the wall beside them. His hand felt sweaty, but he didn't have it in him to pull away. “Why... why didn’t you—”

“Don’t be an idiot. How long has it been since you and Ginny broke up?”

“Uh… about two months now?”

“Exactly,” Draco said. “I didn’t want you… I didn’t want  _us_ to rush into anything, Harry. I didn’t want to be that person to you.”

“Then — then why are you holding my hand?”

Draco finally faced him, looking oddly relaxed. And _smug_ , the little shit. “Because you wouldn’t come mumbling and stuttering about it if you weren’t ready to take a step.”

“Oh.” Harry felt a grin pull at his lips. “So... you like me.”

Draco let out a breathless laugh. “I do. Don't ask me why. I happen to have a very embarrassing weakness for charming idiots.”

Harry bit his lip. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. Draco seemed completely unfazed by the invasion of his personal space, and in fact smiled a little bit wider when Harry gently rested his hands around his arms.

Could he kiss Draco? Could that actually happen? After everything he'd gone through, after almost convincing himself Draco would always remain out of reach, could he really…?

His body leaned forward on his own accord. His heart jumped, his eyes fell closed, and then—

And then there was a hand on his chest, holding him back.

He opened his eyes to a slightly flustered, yet still way too smug Draco.

“I don't kiss before first dates,” he declared.

“What? What did you bring me to a deserted alley for, then?” Draco smirked, and Harry pushed him playfully on the chest. “You bloody tease!”

“Books, Potter. Then coffee. _Then_ we can go somewhere nice and comfy that doesn't smell like cat pee and you can show me exactly how much you love me.”

Before Harry could protest, Draco took his hand and walked them back to the busy street.

 


End file.
